


I'll Show You with Words

by tamarussia



Category: NG (Visual Novel), 死印 | Shiin | Death Mark (Visual Novel)
Genre: Anal Sex, Banter, Body Worship, Frottage, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Oral Sex, Porn, Porn With Plot, Post-Canon, Praise Kink, Topping from the Bottom, akira has a praise kink and yall can rip that headcanon from my dead cold hands, like akira isn't the one with the dick up his ass but he might as well be
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-01
Updated: 2020-02-01
Packaged: 2021-02-28 02:20:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22506205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tamarussia/pseuds/tamarussia
Summary: Akira uncovers something about himself. Seiji helps him figure it out, but like, in a sexy way.Set post-canon, generally speaking. No spoilers!
Relationships: Amanome Seiji & Hazuki Kaoru, Amanome Seiji/Kijima Akira, Hazuki Kaoru & Kijima Akira
Comments: 15
Kudos: 109





	I'll Show You with Words

Seiji had a theory to test. He liked to think of himself as a man of science; anything can be tested, and what couldn’t be explained just hadn’t been tested correctly. Occult bullshit notwithstanding, a sound scientific method is what provided real answers, Seiji thought.

Which was why now, he had something _extremely_ important to find out.

* * *

His hypothesis came forth from an innocent jest. Okay, well, it wasn’t really innocent per se, but it truly wasn’t the reaction Seiji had been expecting. He and Akira had been an item for a little while, but their lives had remained largely unchanged. After Kakuya, they had naturally fallen closer together – the new-found intimacy was something they were still grappling with, so Seiji did his best to take what he could get.

So, fuck him sideways when one day, after jokingly complimenting Akira (who had done him a quick favor) with a sly, _‘Good boy’,_ Akira’s entire face bloomed a brilliant scarlet. Kaoru was on it like lightning.

“No way, look at your _goddamn_ face, Akira!” she had exclaimed, almost launching herself over the bar counter she and Seiji were seated at. The wild grin on her face said nothing good.

“Is that your, like, thing? Is it?” she drilled him. The look he threw her from behind the bar promised violence, but its impact was lessened by the redness of his cheeks.

“The hell are you talking about? I don’t have a ‘thing,’” Akira had denied. “And even if I did, how is that any of your business?” He crossed his arms. Hazuki sat back and pretend to contemplate on what Akira said.

“Hm. Sounds like something someone who has a _thing_ for praise would say,” she stated. Akira sputtered.

“I – what? I _do not – “_

“You know, one time he did have that awfully big smile when I scolded Maruhashi,” Seiji jumped in, having recovered from his earlier surprise. Kaoru nodded sagely as if suddenly it all made sense.

“Ah, so it’s a power dynamic thing. I get it,” she concluded.

“A _what –_ “

“No wonder he lets me insult him all the time. I knew he had some weird kinks,” Seiji continued wryly.

“Okay, here’s an idea,” Akira interrupted, “how about you both _shut the fuck up,”_ His face was blank, but the threat in his tone was clear. Kaoru simply rolled her eyes, and Seiji threw up his hands in mock surrender.

“Jeez, no need to be so shy,” he said coolly. Deciding to push his luck, he reached over to crook a finger under Akira’s choker and give it a slight tug.

“No wonder you wear the collar, it’s perfe – AH, fuck, _fuckfuckfuck let me go – “_ he started pleading when Akira snatched his wrist and squeezed so hard Seiji swore he heard his bones grinding together. He jerked his hand away when Akira finally let go.

Kaoru was cracking up at the display, trying (and failing) to hide her laughter behind her gloved hands.

Seiji gave her a dirty look. “Glad you find this amusing,” he muttered, gingerly rubbing his wrist. Kaoru just laughed harder, almost falling off her stool.

But the cherry in Akira’s cheeks hadn’t lessened at all, Seiji realized, as much as gotten more vibrant. Akira’s expression had hardly changed at all except for an angry tic that had developed in his jaw, but just because the man barely showed emotions didn’t mean he didn’t _have_ any.

And such a question like _Does Akira have a praise kink?_ would be downright criminal to not get to the bottom of. So, Seiji hatched a plan.

* * *

Operation “How Can I Prove Akira Likes Compliments and How Fast Can We Translate That to the Bed?” (name pending) was underway, and Seiji was completely beside himself. Getting to relentlessly tease Akira about something outside of his control? It was the most entertainment he was going to ever get.

Seiji gave Akira an entire week to sort of forget about the incident at the Black Rabbit before starting his first test. If he pushed too hard, he figured, Akira would shut down all together and nothing would come of this.

Which led him to now: today, he and Akira were going to meet up to go to a Momo Kuruse concert Kaoru had gotten them VIP tickets to. Ami had begged to go with, puppy dog eyes and all, but Ms. Natsumi was firm – ten years old is too young for concerts, she had told Ami, so it was just Seiji waiting alone at Kissouji Station, leaning up against a wall.

And speak of the devil, Akira soon pulls up, slowing his motorcycle to a stop. He plants his feet and steadies the bike before tossing Seiji a helmet.

Seiji catches it clumsily and steps away from the wall. He decides to test the waters.

“Hey, you actually made it here on time,” Seiji starts casually, raising his voice to be heard over the roar of the engine. He gives Akira a warm smile and a pat on the arm. “Good job, buddy.”

Akira pauses and eyes Seiji through the dark visor of his helmet, but otherwise makes no comment. Seiji climbs on behind him and devises up another sentence before putting his own helmet on.

“Now, be a good boy and don’t drive like an asshole. Kaoru would hate for us to be late cause we’re splattered across the highway,” he says dryly, wrapping his arms around Akira’s waist. He feels how Akira stiffens slightly before he shakes head and revs the engine.

“I don’t drive like an asshole,” is Akira’s gruff response, but he says nothing more. They pull off.

 _I need a better reaction,_ Amanome thinks excitedly. _I need to push more._

* * *

Funnily enough, Akira himself helped the next time Seiji thought to try his hand, albeit unknowingly. Seiji was hanging out at Akira’s apartment, Ami in tow this time. She was busy blasting ‘Wander Rabbits’ through her headphones loud enough to be heard across the room while Seiji helped Akira prepare an easy dinner for the three of them.

Akira had decided on yakisoba, stir-fried with sliced pork belly, mushrooms, and green onions. Truthfully, it was a hassle to get Akira to include more than one vegetable, but Seiji had been liberal with his flattery all day, dropping _‘Good’_ s and ‘ _Great’_ s and maybe even a _‘Wonderful’_ once or twice. Despite the normal stoicism Akira tried to exhibt, his face was dusted a healthy pink.

“Hand me the sauce,” Akira says. Seiji wordlessly hands him the yakisoba sauce (made fresh by Seiji, because he wasn’t a _bum_ , thank you) and watches as Akira finishes cooking, pouring the sauce over the noodles and frying everything together for a few more seconds before turning the stove off. Seiji helps him plate three portions.

“Well, Akira, I gotta say, this looks pretty decent,” Seiji approves, turning a plate this way and that as if to inspect it. Akira shrugs one shoulder.

“It’s nothing. Stir-fry is easy,” he says with indifference. He pulls off his gloves and starts looking to find enough chopsticks.

“Still, you cooked for everyone,” Seiji responds. He gives Akira a small smile then leans in to give him a small kiss.

“Good boy,” he whispers.

Akira rears back, eyebrows shooting into his hairline. The dusting on his cheeks deepens to a prominent crimson the slowly starts climbing down his neck.

‘ _I wonder how far that blush goes’_ is Seiji’s first thought.

He doesn’t have time to properly react to Akira’s shock because Ami, who has such good timing it’s almost supernatural, decides then to show up in the kitchen.

“I smelled the yakisoba! Is it time to eat?” she asks, taking off her headphones to rest them around her neck. ‘Wander Rabbits’ was still blasting.

“Yup,” Seiji says, glancing at Akira who still seems a little shell-shocked. “Your big brother whipped this up for us.” He hands Ami one of the plates and a pair of chopsticks. She gives him a beaming smile.

“Thanks, Akira!” she says enthusiastically, then pauses at the sight of Akira’s lobster-red face. “Why’s your face all red? Are you getting sick?”

Seiji snickers. “The heat from the pan got to his big head, is all.”

The explanation seems to be enough for Ami, who mouths a silent, “Oh,” with her lips before padding over to the table near Akira’s bed. She sits down and promptly begins eating.

Seiji grabs his own plate and utensils and makes for the table. “Don’t let your food get cold, Akira,” he says nonchalantly. Akira blinks rapidly before moving again.

Seiji knew he needed one last shove.

* * *

Dinner is largely uneventful. Ami touts Akira’s cooking every chance she got while they ate.

“Seriously, I think he could win a cooking competition, Seiji,” she asserts. “His hamburg steak is really good also!”

“Is that so?” Seiji smirks at Akira, who’s looking pointedly at a piece of pork on his plate. “You hiding more delicious recipes from us, buddy?” Akira glares at him and grumbles into his noodles.

“It’s just hamburg steak,” he says. ‘Embarrassed’ seemed too gentle of a word for someone like Akira, but the attention was seemingly making him a little uncomfortable. 

The doorbell rings and Ami jumps up.

“Oh! Mom’s here!” she says cheerfully, quickly finishing the last bit of her yakisoba before walking over to the kitchen and carefully placing her bowl and chopsticks in the sink. She quickly shuffles to the door before standing up on her tiptoes to peer into the peephole. Ami lets out a small, “yay!” at seeing Natsumi on the other side before unlocking the door.

When Ms. Natsumi walks in, Ami throws her arms open wide to give her a hug.

“Hi, Mom!” she exclaims. Ms. Natsumi giggles at her energy.

“Hi, Ami,” she replies, returning the hug. She gives a small wave to Akira and Seiji, who wave back.

“Did you have a good time at Akira’s?” she asks pleasantly. Ami nods her head.

“Akira made the tastiest yakisoba, Mom. It was the best I’ve ever had ever!” she insists. Ms. Natsumi raises an eyebrow in surprise.

“Oh, really?” she questions, giving Akira a quick glance. He just shrugs again. “How about you tell me about it on the way home, hm? Go grab your things.”

Ami lets go to swiftly grab her school bag, and Natsumi takes the chance to thank the two of them.

“I always appreciate you boys watching Ami for me,” she thanks sincerely. “I know she can be a bit of a handful.”

“Absolutely. Anytime,” Seiji reassures her. “I will always help a beautiful lady.”

Natsumi doesn’t even deign to give a him proper response, chuckling instead as Ami skips her way back to the door.

“Bye Seiji! Bye Akira! Nite nite!” Ami says, taking her mom’s hand. Natsumi gives her own, “Good night,” as she and Ami leave, closing the door behind them.

* * *

Akira goes up to lock the door, then immediately rounds on Seiji.

“Okay,” he says, “what is your problem?”

Seiji barely contains his glee. “What are you talking about? The fumes from the oil confusing you or something?” Akira frowns at him as Seiji moves their plates to the kitchen.

“Don’t act stupid, you know what I mean,” Akira says with a scowl.

“How am I supposed to know the one thought that bounces off your skull each day?” Seiji retorts.

Akira huffs in frustration, leaning against the door. “Can you not be an ass for ten minutes? You _know_ what you’re doing, with all the weird fucking. Compliments and shit, like at the Black Rabbit.”

Seiji can’t help the chuckle that escapes from him. Getting under Akira’s skin was something that never got old.

“Would you rather I call you names? Dummy? Idiot? Brute? Neanderthal? Nema – “

“ _Stop_ talking.” The quick vein of rage in Akira’s voice sends a shiver up Seiji’s spine. “I didn’t say that. It’s just weird.”

“What, you can’t handle someone giving you an honest compliment?” Seiji bites.

“You’re not listening, asshole. I didn’t say I wanna be insulted. It’s – “ Akira hesitates and crosses his arms. “It’s weird ‘cause I know it’s not honest. You’re just trying to fuck with me like you always do.”

Seiji raises an eyebrow. “So, you do like them?”

Akira falters further. Seiji can practically hear the gears grinding together in his head. He lets Akira have a moment.

“I – I’m not...I don’t –“

Oh, sweet _lord_ , help him.

Seiji moves from the kitchen and crosses into Akira’s space, stepping in close until their bodies are nearly touching. He reaches a hand up to gently grab Akira’s jaw, and Akira immediately stops talking. Seiji takes a chance.

“That’s what you want then? Genuine thanks? Something from the heart?” He leans in when Akira doesn’t speak. “ _Answer me._ ”

This close, he can feel Akira’s breath hitch, see the way his pupils dilate. And _that_ was interesting. 

“I’m. Uh. Yes?” Akira replies uncertainly. Seiji’s not quite satisfied with the way he says it like a question, but he continues.

“So, let’s try something new, hm? This is about sex, just so we’re clear, okay? Not for regular situations.” Akira pauses but nods his head.

“I have been teasing you, you’re right, but this is for real. Do you want me to compliment you in bed? Tell me honestly.” Seiji inquires. Akira flounders. “You can say no, you know,” Seiji clarifies.

Akira takes a deep breath. “I don’t…know. Maybe?” Seiji hums. He’s not used to Akira being so unsure, but intimate matters made him shifty. Seiji carries on.

“How about commands? Do you want me to be more commandeering?” he asks.

Akira nervously looks away but returns the eye contact when Seiji lightly raps his fingers along his jaw.

“Uh, maybe? Sometimes, I think?” he answers.

“Do you want to try it?” Seiji prods. “Now, I mean.” Akira takes another deep breath and doesn’t answer for a good seven seconds. Seiji waits.

“…Yes,” Akira finally admits. A big grin slowly carves its way across Seiji’s face, and he leans in to tenderly press his lips against Akira’s.

“ _Good boy,”_ he breathes against them, and feels Akira shiver hard.

Seiji pulls away completely and strolls over to Akira’s bed. He sits and pats the space next him.

“Come here,” Seiji says calmly. Akira stares blankly at him.

“ _Now_ , Akira.” He jolts but moves, crossing the room in long strides to sit where was indicated. He was a little awkward looking, perched almost on the edge of the mattress, his body stiff. Seiji snakes his hands up Akira’s neck, past his choker and up to cup his face.

“Relax,” he reassures him softly, “if you want me to stop, just say so and I’ll drop all this stuff, okay?”

“Yeah, okay,” Akira says, nodding to himself. Seiji pulls his down the rest of the way to kiss him firmly.

This, Akira knew, and he soon falls into a familiar rhythm, moving his lips against Seiji’s. Their tongues quickly get involved, Akira sliding his into Seiji’s mouth and running it over the ridge behind his teeth. Seiji breathes a little heavier.

He moves his hands down to tug at the bottom of Akira’s shirt. Akira takes the hint and breaks away slightly to draw his shirt up and over his head. He reaches up to go for the choker, but Seiji grabs his wrist to stop him.

“Don’t,” Seiji says, “keep it on. I like the way it looks on you.” He’s rewarded when Akira flushes crimson, the blush creeping down to stain his chest.

Seiji laughs. “You’re so cute sometimes.” Akira blushes harder and looks away. Seiji leans in to give him another kiss, unbuttoning his own top and tossing it to the side. He taps Akira’s leg.

“Pants off, please,” he tells hm. Akira follows his instruction, unbuckling his jeans to slide them down his legs. He toes them off one foot after the other. Seiji closes the gap between them to press their lips together, moving a hand to grope at the tent in Akira’s pants.

Akira groans and shudders. “Shit, Seiji,” he says roughly, and reflexively leans his head back. Seiji pushes a finger under the choker and yanks, forcing Akira’s head forward. Akira yelps.

“Look at me,” Seiji directs him. “Don’t look away.” Akira’s eyes are wide, but he doesn’t break the line of sight. Seiji skirts his finger along Akira’s waistband before pushing his hand down to free Akira’s length. He looks painfully hard, the tip ruddy and already weeping. Akira starts shaking.

“Keyed up, huh? Poor thing,” Seiji purrs. “Why didn’t you tell me you wanted this sooner?” Akira levels him with a dirty look, or as mean a man can look with his dick drooling pre over his stomach. 

“How was I supposed to know – _fuck_ ,” Akira cuts off with a choke when Seiji unceremoniously grabs him, giving him a lazy stroke and thumbing his slit. 

“I think you’re doing too much talking,” Seiji drawls, and tightens his grip. Akira quakes.

“S-Seiji,” he moans lowly, then claps his hand over his mouth as if his own moan surprised him.

Seiji yanks his choker again. “None of that,” he says. He starts sliding his hand and hears Akira moan weakly through his fingers. “I need to be able to hear you, love.”

It takes him a second, but Akira removes his hand, holding it awkwardly in the air before wrapping his fingers around Seiji’s wrist instead. Seiji flashes him a slick smirk.

“Good boy,” he praises. Akira moans again, and his hand twitches as if he means to move it, but it stays put. Seiji pumps his hand and quickly gains momentum, jerking Akira off in earnest.

Akira’s eyes flutter shut. “Fuu _uuuck_ , fuck fuck, god, Seiji, I’m – “ small moans pour out of Akira’s mouth. It’s a rare moment, to see Akira so overwhelmed by basic touch. It fills Seiji with a sense of power that makes him lightheaded.

Akira suddenly tightens his grip to a vice and Seiji stops. “Seriously, I’m – I’m super close here.” The expression Seiji starts sporting is poisonous.

“Already? You’re a kinky little bastard,” he teases. Akira glowers at him, eyes dark.

“D-Don’t act like you aren’t getting off to this too,” he says, eyeing the tent in Seiji’s own pants. He tries to catch his breath. “I didn’t expect it to feel like this.”

“Nice, you mean?” Seiji counters. Akira simply rolls his eyes.

“Okay, let’s try this then,” Seiji muses. He lets go of the choker and takes Akira lightly by the neck and pushes, and Akira scoots back, letting go of Seiji’s wrist to push himself backwards on the bed, all the way until his back hits the wall. Seiji rises on his knees to straddle Akira’s legs, then helps him take his boxers all the way off.

“How about I make you come now, then I ride you until you give me another?” Akira swallows harshly. He nods in agreement.

Seiji tuts, and takes the choker with his finger again to give it a quick pull. “Use your words, buddy. Want to do that?”

Akira exhales shakily. “Yes,” he states. He places his hands on Seiji’s hips, and Seiji rewards him with a kiss.

“Very good,” he asserts. He continues, jerking Akira hard and fast with a twist of his wrist. Akira startles, and wheezes. His head knocks back into the wall.

“Fucking _god,_ Seiji, shit,” he groans. Seiji is there with him, foreheads pressed to Akira’s and letting his moans ghost over lips. Akira is sprinting towards the finish line, and Seiji is relentless, keeping his speed and refusing to waver.

“Are you going to be a good boy and come for me, hm?” Seiji whispers against him. Akira nearly whines.

“ _God_ yes, I’m so close, oh fuck,” Akira grinds out. Seiji nips at his bottom lip.

“Then _do it_ ,” Seiji demands. Extraordinarily, Akira does, gasping as he comes abruptly. Seiji leans back to watch him.

It was almost a beautiful sight – Akira’s eyes screwed shut, his teeth gritted together as he comes hard, spilling over Seiji’s fingers. His entire body is a tight line of taut muscle, hands clutching where they sat on Seiji’s waist.

Seiji wanted to eat him alive.

“Perfect,” he thinks out loud. He gives a few languid pumps as aftershocks wrack Akira’s body, then reaches up to smear the come that had landed on Akira’s stomach. He runs his fingers over the abs there as Akira softens.

“Gorgeous,” he persists, bending toward Akira to plant an open-mouthed kiss on his lips. “So pretty, all for me.” Akira trembles.

“Seiji,” he moans softly. He paws at Seiji’s pants. “Let me touch you,” he says.

“Such manners,” Seiji chuckles, but lets Akira unzip his pants, helping him to tug both them and his boxers down and off his legs.

The two kiss again as Akira takes Seiji’s length in hand, and Seiji moans gently. Akira uses his other hand to caress whatever he could reach, sliding his hand up Seiji’s chest to lightly flick at a nipple, then continuing up his neck, down his back to palm his ass.

“Someone’s eager,” Seiji laughs.

“Oh, shut up,” Akira mutters. He pulls Seiji closer until he’s kneeling properly, length resting against Akira’s cheek.

Akira’s intent is instantly clear. Seiji feels overheated.

“You don’t have to –“ he starts, but Akira stops him with a look.

“Shut up,” he repeats. “I want to. Or,try to, at least.”

Seiji throws the look back at him. “Sure, but last time you tried you almost bit me.”

“I could skip the act and just bite it off outright instead,” Akira says bluntly. Seiji blanches.

“Please don’t talk about biting anything off while my dick is in your face,” he says crossly. Akira rolls his eyes.

“Then let me,” Akira says back. Seiji takes a second but motions for him to go ahead.

Akira reaches up to take Seiji in hand again, pausing before opening his mouth to run his tongue over the head. His face crumples briefly at the bitter taste of pre but doesn’t stop. Seiji sighs and tangles his fingers in Akira’s hair.

Emboldened, Akira moves forward to take Seiji into his mouth, sucking delicately. Seiji grips his black locks a little harder.

Akira pulls away to lick a wet stripe up the side of Seiji’s hardness, and Seiji groans in response. Akira presses on, taking more into his mouth and wrapping a hand around what he couldn’t get to.

Akira’s hands felt searing where he touched on Seiji’s skin. He uses one hand to knead the flesh on Seiji’s thigh as he works, pumping his hand while his tongue swirls around the weight of Seiji in his mouth.

Seiji shivers and bucks slightly. “Okay, fuck, Akira,” he moans, “that’s _good_.” He tugs at Akira’s hair. Akira twitches and groans with him, the vibrations in his throat making Seiji pant.

He tightens his grip and pulls, and Akira moves away entirely.

“Let me,” Seiji clarifies. He thumbs at Akira’s reddened lips. “Open up.” Obediently, Akira opens his mouth.

“Be good for me and don’t move,” Seiji instructs. Akira nods and opens wider.

“Well, isn’t someone aiming to please,” Seiji murmurs, taking himself in hand to push into Akira’s mouth. He moans and continues to slide forward until Akira gags. He pulls out.

“Shit, sorry,” he apologizes quickly. Akira coughs and clears his throat.

“You’re fine,” he responds gruffly. “Just be more careful, I like to breathe sometimes.”

Seiji snorts a little but tries again. He thrusts gently into Akira’s mouth, hands threaded through his hair. Akira hums and Seiji shivers again, daring to thrust a little deeper. Akira does his best to hollow his cheeks and suck. The feeling is heavenly.

“Look at me,” he orders. Akira looks up at him through dark lashes.

The sight is downright pornographic. Seiji almost comes then and there - Akira’s eyes are lidded and brimming with lust, his pupils engulfing the dark brown of his irises. Akira’s mouth is wet and hot, and the sight of his cherried lips wrapped around Seiji’s cock as he thrusts inside made him feel as if he were going to implode.

Seiji pulls out suddenly with a lewd pop. Akira looks at him, confused, absentmindedly licking his lips.

 _Christ._ “Sorry, I was really close,” Seiji explains, “and I want to make it to the main event.” He twists to quickly dig in the nearby drawer to grab lube.

He tosses the bottle to Akira. “Prep me,” he says. Akira blinks.

“Don’t you usually like to do it yourself?” he questions.

“Yes, but I’m getting impatient and I want your fingers in me,” Seiji says brusquely. Akira flushes and promptly pops open the cap and pours some out onto his fingers. Seiji lowers himself to straddle Akira’s hips.

His fingers brush against Seiji’s entrance, and he jumps from the small coldness of the lube. Akira rubs his fingers together before pushing one in up to the knuckle. Seiji breathes hard out of his nose.

“Another,” he says urgently. Akira complies and slides another in. Seiji groans low. “ _Good_ boy,” he says tightly.

Akira gasps but wordlessly prepares him, pumping his fingers and spreading them. Seiji leans in and kisses Akira, moaning into his mouth. Akira returns the kiss, slipping his tongue past Seiji’s as he pushes in a third finger.

The taste of himself on Akira’s tongue and the slight burn from the stretch of his fingers makes Seiji’s head spin. Akira pushes his fingers deep and brushes the tips of them against the spot that has Seiji keening.

“ _Fuck,_ my god,” he moans. He grabs the back of Akira’s head as he grinds down on his fingers. Akira shakes under him.

“God,” Akira whispers at the sight. He moves his fingers faster as Seiji slowly begins to ride his hand. The display has Akira entranced.

After a few long minutes, Seiji nods to himself.

“Okay,” he says, “I’m ready.” He takes Akira by the neck again to turn him and push him back onto the mattress. Akira’s short hair fans out on his pillow. Taking the lube, he squeezes out a liberal amount and slicks up Akira’s length. The contact makes Akira tense.

“Don’t want a condom?” he thinks to ask. Seiji just winks at him as he lines himself up.

“Think of this as a consolation prize for being so nice and compliant for me,” he states, sticking his tongue out cheekily.

Seiji puts on a show of slowly spearing himself on Akira’s cock, tossing his head back and moaning high in his throat. Akira moans along with him.

“Fuck, Seiji,” he grunts. He moves to grab him by the hips, but Seiji intercepts his hands.

“Ah, ah,” he tuts. He moves Akira’s hands over his head and pushes them down as if to pin them there.

“Don’t move,” Seiji orders him. Akira starts trembling again. “Be good and stay still, and I’ll let you finish inside me. Deal?” Akira nods eagerly.

The grin Seiji gives him is downright sinister. “So obedient,” he murmurs. He lifts himself up and sits down firmly. Akira flinches hard, hands curling into fists, but doesn’t move.

“How wonderful,” Seiji muses out loud. The praise has Akira turning red.

“You’re beautiful,” Seiji says. He plants his hands on Akira’s chest to start riding him properly.

Akira chokes and turns his head, hiding his face in his arm. His mouth drops open as he starts panting.

“ _Christ_ , Seiji, fucking – “ Seiji leans down slightly and uses a hand to grab Akira’s jaw.

“ _Look_ at me,” he says strongly. He speeds up and gyrates his hips. Akira does whine then, gaze locked onto him.

“Seiji, oh my god,” he blabbers. His eyes are burning holes into Seiji’s own.

Seiji keeps going. Akira feels boiling, stiff and thick inside of him. Seiji gives a particularly hard thrust and the head of Akira’s dick rubs firmly on his prostate. Seiji bites back a yell.

“Oh, fuck, _yes,”_ he chokes. He sits down hard again, and Akira hits the same spot. Seiji whimpers. His fingers dig into Akira’s cheeks as he does his best to replicate the movement. He moans openly, eyes closing for a moment as he kisses Akira soundly.

Seiji’s riding Akira with vigor, rolling his hips in small circles as he drives down over and over. Akira heaves, knuckles white as he holds onto his pillow.

He pushes a wobbly groan into Seiji’s mouth. “I’m – shit – I’m close,” Akira manages to say. Seiji suddenly slows down, sitting up and making his thrusts almost leisurely as he regains control of himself. He still has Akira’s jaw in his grip. Akira’s toes curl.

“Hm,” he comments, “so soon?” Seiji says. His voice is remarkably steady. He pushes his hair away from forehead. “Do you want to come?”

“Yes,” Akira breathes. Seiji hums in mock contemplation.

“You think you’ve been good enough today? I don’t know…” He forces himself down harder, stifling a moan that threatens to come out. Akira’s arms start trembling.

“I-I’m – Seiji, I’ve – “ Seiji shushes him, then leans in close, millimeters away from Akira’s face.

“Beg,” he tells him.

“H-Huh?”

“Beg for it,” Seiji repeats. He’s still moving.

Akira swallows. “I’m – “ he tries, but stumbles. Seiji kisses him.

“You can do it,” he whispers, encouraging him. “You’re doing so well. Give me this last thing. _Beg.”_

Akira gives the closest to a sob Seiji’s ever heard from him.

“ _Please,”_ he pleads finally. “Please, Seiji, please, fuck,” he keeps saying, and it’s like a dam has been broken, an unbroken chorus of _please please please oh god_ that has Seiji brimming with pride.

“ _Good boy,”_ he beams, and then yanks Akira’s choker to bodily pull him upwards.

“Fuck me, then. _Come_ ,” Seiji commands.

Akira wastes no time, smashing their lips together and taking Seiji’s hips in a vice grip. He fucks up into him at an almost violent pace, hard rabbit thrusts as he flies over the edge. Seiji has just enough room to weasel his hand between them and jerk himself as fast as he could.

“ _Fuck!”_ Akira almost yells. His orgasm barrels into him as he bucks hard, groaning loudly into Seiji’s neck as he spills inside of him. Seiji is right behind him, shuddering from head to toe as he paints their stomachs with come.

Akira has Seiji pulled as close to him as is possible, holding on tight and twitching as he seemingly comes for eons.

It ends as suddenly as it starts. Akira sags like a marionette with its strings cut, barely keeping himself from causing them both to topple over from his weight. He gasps to catch his breath.

“Holy _shit,”_ he says roughly.

“You’re telling me,” Seiji pants. He sounds just as affected.

They stay like that for a minute until Seiji sits up to pull Akira’s now softened member out of him. Akira absentmindedly watches a bead of white start rolling down Seiji’s thigh.

Seiji taps him to get his attention. “You’re okay?” he asks softly. “Had fun?” Akira blinks at him for a while and tries to make a sentence.

“Yeah,” he fails. Akira looks wiped, hair sticking to his forehead and breathing hard. Seiji kisses him again.

“You were good,” he praises him, gingerly starting to adjust his legs. He grimaced at the feeling of more come dripping out of him. God, he was going to have to waddle.

“Carry me to the bathroom,” he tells Akira. Akira just looks at him. “Unless you want jizz on your floor. You’re the one who came buckets, you have to help me.”

“Dude, you’re gonna have to give me a minute. I’ll drop you.” Akira responds sluggishly. Seiji laughs.

“Man, it was like that, huh?” he teases. Akira doesn’t answer, and Seiji shifts again to sit next to him. He takes Akira’s hand in his.

“How about we do this again sometime?” Seiji offers. Akira peers at him but nods. Seiji gives him a genuine smile and grants him a small smooch.

“Good boy.”

**Author's Note:**

> what is up friends, here is the longest thing i've willingly written and its kijiama smut! how great. tell me nice things please.


End file.
